


beneath my shirt your hands embraced me

by theomegapoint



Series: Kinktober 2018 [11]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Crossdressing, Group Marriage, Kinktober 2018, Multi, Polyamory, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-08-01 10:33:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16282973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theomegapoint/pseuds/theomegapoint
Summary: It's traditional for omegas to wear soft, flowing dresses and skirts, but the closest that Damen has ever seen Laurent get to that is the nightgowns that Laurent wears when they sleep and the dress he wore on their wedding day. Still, Laurent usually keeps to the generalstyleof what's “appropriate” for omegas, so to speak. His trousers are soft and flowing, much like a skirt that's been split to allow a wider range of movement, and his blouses are appropriately cut looser than an alpha's would be, but still close-fitting enough to not be cumbersome like some of the fashions that omegas wear.All of this is to say that while Laurent doesn'tstrictlydress the way other omegas do, Damen doesn't think that anyone would question that his husband still dresses in the omegan fashion and that what Laurent is currently wearing is, very decidedly,notsomething that would be appropriate for an omega in either Akielos or Vere. Were it not for the style of his hair, Damen thinks that Laurent might almost pass for an alpha to someone who didn't know better.





	beneath my shirt your hands embraced me

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually, uh. This takes place in a much longer fic I'm writing wherein Veretian marriage by law is conducted between two alphas and an omega and these three have been married for about a year. Also there's an entire subplot about how Veretians keep their hair long and constantly braided so they can send passive-aggressive messages to each other through the styling. Naturally, this is Laurent's favorite form of communication.

It's traditional for omegas to wear soft, flowing dresses and skirts, but the closest that Damen has ever seen Laurent get to that is the nightgowns that Laurent wears when they sleep and the dress he wore on their wedding day. Still, Laurent usually keeps to the general _style_ of what's “appropriate” for omegas, so to speak. His trousers are soft and flowing, much like a skirt that's been split to allow a wider range of movement, and his blouses are appropriately cut looser than an alpha's would be, but still close-fitting enough to not be cumbersome like some of the fashions that omegas wear.

All of this is to say that while Laurent doesn't _strictly_ dress the way other omegas do, Damen doesn't think that anyone would question that his husband still dresses in the omegan fashion and that what Laurent is currently wearing is, very decidedly, _not_ something that would be appropriate for an omega in either Akielos or Vere. Were it not for the style of his hair, Damen thinks that Laurent might almost pass for an alpha to someone who didn't know better.

“What do you think?” Laurent does a turn, voice faintly pleased in the way it so rarely is. “The Vaskian ambassador gave them to me.”

“I. Um.” Damen swallows, trying to get word to form coherently in his brain. “They're very tight.”

“I know! It's wonderful,” Laurent says. He's bending over, trying to reach his toes, and it gives Damen an _astonishingly_ clear view of Laurent's ass. “I can move so easily—is this what alphas always feel like? No wonder you and Auguste wear your clothes so close-cut.”

As if he's been summoned by the mention of his name, Auguste chooses that moment to walk from the study into their bedroom. He promptly drops the papers he's holding and makes no attempt to pick them back up. Damen can relate—if he had been holding anything when Laurent emerged from the bathroom, he thinks he would have dropped it too.

“Mon loulou,” Auguste says, voice strained, “ _what are you wearing?_ ”

“Do you like them?” Laurent straightens, a particular glint in his eye. It's the sort of expression Laurent tends to make when he's realized he has leverage on someone, and Damen attempts to mentally brace himself for whatever Laurent might do next. “The Vaskian ambassador gave them to me.”

“ _Laurent_.”

Auguste's tone is somewhere between chastising and lustful, which Damen intimately understands. He's not entirely sure if he wants to make Laurent change immediately or bend him over and pull down his trousers enough to fuck into him. His cock is currently voting for the second option, making his own trousers uncomfortably tight, and Damen can tell that Auguste isn't much better off.

“Oh, brother.” Laurent walks over to Auguste, getting close enough that their bodies could be flush but aren't, and brings his fingers to the laces of Auguste's trousers. “Your body is honest, even if your mouth isn't.”

Nimble fingers undo the laces of Auguste's trousers and slip into them, pulling out his cock and stroking it. It's not terribly unusual for Laurent, who has always been more bold with his brother than with Damen—it doesn't bother him, because his husbands have had years to learn each other before they were married and there's a certain comfort that comes with that. Still, Auguste looks over at Damen in desperation. Shrugging, Damen undoes his own trousers and takes himself in hand.

“Don't.” Laurent's voice cuts across the room, even though his gaze hasn't moved from Auguste's face. “If you come now, then you won't be able to knot me after Auguste fucks me.”

Damen groans, moving his hand away to twist into their sheets. Auguste is looking up towards the ceiling now, probably silently asking the Gods why they chose him, of all people, to be cursed with a minx of a brother. Laurent's hand is still gripping him, still stroking without real purpose in the way that Damen knows firsthand is absolutely torturous.

“Mon loulou,” Auguste says. It's barely above a whisper, quiet and strained in a way Damen has learned to recognize. “ _Laurent_.”

Here, in their private rooms, Laurent can be Laurent and not merely “Prince Omega.” Here, away from the rumors of the court, both Damen and Auguste know that it's not a question of alpha or omega but a question of what Laurent wants from them and how they can best provide it. Right now, one of Laurent's hands curls around Auguste's braid and uses it to tug his brother down so he can fit their lips together. It's the kind of pushy kiss that Damen is now familiar with—Laurent has never kissed like it's merely something to _do_. No, Laurent nearly always kisses like it's something you can _win_.

If you were to ask Damen, he would probably say that Laurent does, in fact, often win at kissing.

“Well,” Laurent says once he'd pulled away from Auguste, “are you going to fuck me or not?”

That's all it takes before Auguste is growling, turning Laurent to bend him over his own vanity table and tugging his trousers down so they're around Laurent's knees. The rough treatment causes Laurent to whine and struggle, which other people might take as him not enjoying this turn of events. Damen knows better—before he was allowed to call Laurent by name, Laurent was tugging him into private corners of the gardens and making Damen fuck him over benches.

For all that Laurent can be unlike other omegas, he loves the chase as much as any omega that Damen has known. He likes being caught less, maybe, but being caught is almost always what Laurent intends when he begins a game.

It only takes a few moments for Auguste to wrangle Laurent into submission, teeth sinking into the back of Laurent's neck and cock driving home. It's almost like they've forgotten Damen is in the room at all—that's happened before, on a handful of occasions—so it takes Damen by surprise when he finally hears what Auguste is saying to Laurent.

“Is that what you want?” Auguste's voice is low, hoarse. “For him to knot you, put an heir in you?”

“Auguste,” Laurent says. It's not an answer, but Auguste doesn't seem to mind. “ _Brother_.”

“Do you cry for him? Does he make you beg for his knot?”

The idea of Laurent begging for anything is frankly preposterous, but Laurent just sobs. It's the kind of hiccuping sound that only Auguste can draw from Laurent, because Damen is too soft to treat Laurent with anything but kindnesses. That's not always what Laurent wants—actually, it's almost never what Laurent _wants_ , Damen thinks, but he's come to accept it from Damen—and that's why he goes to Auguste more frequently. That's why they often forget Damen is in the room at all, losing themselves in a bubble that's only big enough for the two of them.

Damen doesn't mind, really. Laurent belonged to Auguste before he ever belonged to Damen, and it is enough that Laurent would trust Damen with his name. It is enough that Laurent accepts him at all, now.

Auguste pulls away from Laurent, and Damen can see his seed dripping down Laurent's thighs as Auguste kneels to pull the trousers properly off Laurent, who is somewhat bonelessly draped over his vanity. It's an exceedingly good look on Laurent, Damen thinks, who is so often meticulously put together in a way that only makes Damen want to truly make a mess of him. Makes him want to see Laurent's hair escaping from a finely crafted braid that says any number of things.

Once Laurent's been half undressed, Auguste stands again and picks his brother up like it's nothing to bring over to where Damen hasn't moved on the bed. Laurent is placed into his lap gently and slender arms immediately wrap around his neck, leaving him to do all the work of making sure Laurent doesn't try to immediately take his entire cock. It's a habit for Laurent to do too much, too fast and Damen tries to curb it wherever possible otherwise all that happens later is that Laurent lies in bed and complains about being sore. Telling him that it's his own fault never seems to go very well, even if it's true.

“Damianos,” Laurent says. It's almost a whine, meant to make him relent, but he's learned to not fall for Laurent's tricks. “Husband, _knot me_.”

“Patience,” Damen says. He eases Laurent down slowly. “I know you know how to be a good omega.”

Laurent laughs before turning so his lips are against Damen's ear. He speaks quietly, just loud enough for Damen to hear him.

“A good omega? We both know that isn't what you want.” Laurent's tongue traces the shell of Damen's ear, and Damen tries not to lose his focus. “You want me in alpha clothing, want me bold and defiant so you can reduce me to nothing more than incoherent noise.”

Damen's grip on Laurent's hip falters, and Laurent takes the opportunity to grind down until Damen is groaning.

“Knot me,” Laurent repeats—no, _commands_ —and Damen has no choice but to obey.


End file.
